


You'll be the Death of Me.

by TheViceToMyVirtue



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, F/M, Fanfiction, M/M, Multi, Panic At The Disco (Band), Physical Abuse, Ryden, Rydon, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 15:37:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1693544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheViceToMyVirtue/pseuds/TheViceToMyVirtue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan's always been good at keeping secrets. No one knows about his situation at home. He's lied about it his whole life. In fact, that's another thing he's good at, lying. Maybe his lying and almost constant bad attitude is the reason he only has a few friends, maybe it's his slightly awkward personality or his lack of enthusiasm for joining in conversation. Whatever the reason is, Ryan doesn't care. And when he gets paired in a project with the partner from hell it only makes him want to be even more.. Ryan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll be the Death of Me.

It has never been very high on my list of things I don't hate entirely. Partner work is bad enough, but a whole project. It's worth half of our grade for class too. Fingers crossed I don't get put with a complete idiot. 

Our teacher spends the majority of the class explaining out assignment, and the rest of it trying to work out the pairs.

Then she calls out the partners and my head slumps onto the desk. And to think I had a chance at passing Art. I'm pretty sure the universe hates me. Getting put with Jon or Spencer would have been great, any other kid in our class? Sure.. but him? You've got to be joking. 

"Hi," A cheery voice breaks my thoughts. I lift my head grudgingly and frown at the bright smile he's pulling. "You look happy." He says sarcastically, sitting down beside me and opening to a blank page in his notepad. "So.. Ryan Ross," He fiddles with his pen, twisting it between his fingers and stares at me as if I'm supposed to say something. 

"I'll do the project if you want, I could just bring it in when I'm done or whatever." I suggest. In all honesty, I'd rather do it myself. We have to do a project on "passion." Why it's pair work I'll never understand. Something about teaching us to work with others, I thought that was a skill they taught in Elementary School. "No, no. I want to help. Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to meet up at mine later and do it?" 

"Oh.. well.." If I sound uninterested, it's because I am. I don't have an interest in going to Brendon's house, ever. It wasn't something I planned to do, yet here I am being invited. "Or we can go to your's if it suits better." 

"No," I say too quickly, getting a questioning look from Brendon. He won't ask though, we're not close enough for him to ask. "I mean, no, your house sounds good." I try to smile but it's a sad attempt. Brendon nods, still looking suspicious. "Okay, we'll go after school then." He says, closing his notebook and packing up, just as the bell rings and lunch begins. 

Jon, Spencer and I sit outside of the school building to eat. Near enough to an escape route and far enough from the football field, it's safe. They can't seem to believe my fate and are both in the middle of laughing when Jon says, "Oh cheer up, he's not that bad." I shoot him a death glare and him and Spencer quieten down. "This is unbelievable. At least you two got paired with each other. I suppose it'll be naked pictures of each other then after you fuck?" 

They look at each other and shrug, as if to consider it. "Nah, don't want everyone seeing my junk." Jon says, holding an obnoxious grin. "At least we'd get an A for sure." I look between them in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? I just said you two screw and you're not even denying it. Am I missing something here?" They laugh together. "We're just kidding, Ry." Jon says fondly. Spencer nods in agreement, "Besides, we all know the gay one here is you." I roll my eyes and run my hands through my hair. 

"So, you're going over to his house later?" I groan, having completely forgotten. "Well, if you last the visit, want to come over after? Spend the night?" I nod, feeling a lot better about going to Spencer's after instead of going home. "I need to get dinner at home first, then pack a bag. I'll be over for seven." Spencer and Jon exchange a worried glance. "You want us to come too?" I haven't told them, they just suspect something. 

"No. I'll be fine." We don't pretend like there's nothing happening. I don't lie about it, don't feel a need to lie to them. I don't think I could. "If you're sure." Jon smiles weakly. I'll be fine. Maybe I'll get lucky. I'll be fine. It's an unwritten rule for us not to ask about certain things. This is one of them, and I couldn't be more grateful. "I'm sure." I reply, nodding too much. Spencer puts his hand on my back. "It's all right kid." Jon says, smiling. 

And for a second, I allow myself to believe him.

 

The walk to Brendon's house is relatively short, 10 minutes give or take a few, though it felt as if Brendon was rambling for a lifetime. 

"My family are super religious okay? Try not to swear." He tells me for the second time, nodding along to his own plead. I nod back reassuringly, "If they seem uptight or anything don't worry, they'll warm up to you." It feels like he's taking me to meet his parents as his boyfriend, not to work on some dumb assignment. "Relax though, I'm sure they'll like you." Brendon says confidently but there's something about his eyes that make me think he's lying. 

We get to the door and Brendon opens it, looking left and right presumably for his parents. "Mum? Dad? I'm home!" He shouts cheerily into the hall and his parents appear to the door. "Brendon honey, how was sch-" His mum stops in her question and smiles slightly at me and then at Brendon. His dad's eyebrows furrow at the sight of me and he exchanges glances with his wife.

"Oh, um.." The woman begins, "Who is this, sweetie?" I duck my head at their obvious disapproval. "Oh! This is my friend Ryan, Ryan Ross. We're working on an Art project together." Brendon directs his hands at me and waves them a bit. The corners of my mouth twitch upwards at the use of his word 'friend.' I barely know him. 

 

"So, ideas?"

"You're the one getting good grades all the time, you can decide." He shrugs, not seeming to bothered. To be completely honest, English is the only subject I get good grades in. I can't keep up with all the studying and homework for any other subject, I never have time. And frankly, Art is of no use to me whatsoever. 

I sigh and kick back in Brendon's chair, leaning on the back legs. "I don't know." I say, staring up at the ceiling. "What time is it?" Brendon asks. Before I can answer he checks his phone and mutters about it being 5:00pm. "When are you leaving?" I shrug, not really caring. "Whenever." 

"When do you eat?" I shrug again, "Whenever." Brendon groans with a mixture of aggravation and confusion. "Won't your folks be mad if you miss dinner?" He asks again after brief silence. I compress a laugh. "Doubt it." 

Brendon slumps his shoulders and blows a stream of air from his pouted lips. "Why not?" I roll my eyes, "I make my own dinner." That wasn't exactly a lie, I do make my own dinner. "Ooh." He mumbles. It takes a few seconds for him to realise I'm not going to elaborate further before he pushes himself off of the sofa he was sitting on. "How about a break?"

I blink for a few seconds, "A break? We've only been here for five minutes." Brendon shrugs and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He gives me a look that I think suggests that we should take that break. "We may as well. Unless of course you've got an idea for the project." I shake my head and get up off of the chair.

He grins, "You sure your parents won't mind you eating before dinner?" I know what he's doing. He's trying to pry. Everyone always does when we first meet. I never tell them, and I never will. "No." I snap, walking past him. 

Brendon directs me down the stairs and points to where the kitchen is. He's basically given me a tour as we've passed each room. "In there's the living room. There's the piano, T.V, chairs, the usual really." I dip my head through the door and my shoulders drop along with a breath I didn't know I was holding. "That's... that's pretty."  
He nods, "Yeah, pity no one plays." I gasp. No one plays it, that should be a crime. "No one?" Brendon smirks a tiny bit, "Well, I play it a bit. But not often. We've got a big family, I used to play late at night. Not everybody appreciated waking up to classical piano." "I would." I say dreamily, keeping my eyes on it. "You'd be the first." 

"You like it then?" I turn my head to Brendon and smile brightly, genuine. It's been awhile since I've done that. "Definitely. I'd kill for a piano of any kind, to be completely truthful. Hell, even a keyboard." He smiles back and tilts his head ever so slightly, "Why don't you ask your folks for one then?" My smile falls and I stiffen slightly at asking for a piano... or anything actually. I mean, after the last time...

I stay silent and avoid Brendon's questioning gaze. He can see he's said something wrong and frowns, a little sigh escaping from his mouth. He puts his warm hand on my shoulder and guides me over to the piano. "Do you play?" Brendon asks, sitting down beside me on the stool. It's a tight fit, but comforting. "No... not really."  
"Not really, hm? Can you play anything?" He raises and eyebrow and honestly, it's like this boy has known me all his life with how well he's seeing through me. "I can play a little. Few songs here and there." 

He nods, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Ever write songs?" I feel a hot blush creep up from my jawline. "I write sometimes." Brendon looks honestly intrigued, "I'd love to hear them someday." I look down to the floor and smile. "Maybe." I've never shown anyone any of my lyrics. And I am not starting with Brendon Urie.

"I'll go ask mum to make something for us." Brendon smiles and gets off the stool. "N-nothing huge, okay? I need to get tea at home." He nods, "Just a snack then!" I sigh, feeling relieved to be left alone for a minute. I press a few keys, testing them out. The piano, despite apparently not have been played in a while, is perfectly in tune. 

Before I know it I'm playing full songs, getting lost in it. My fingers dancing over the keys in swift movements, holding here and there. I sing softly to my own song, hitting every key correctly. I'm in my own world, until a light tap on my shoulder startles me and I press multiple keys, sounding out a flamboyant and tone deaf 'chord'. 

"You lied Ryan Ross." He says with a straight face, then breaking into a small smile. "You're amazing." He holds up some photographs and a polaroid instant camera, grinning. My face goes bright red, "Brendon! No!" I make a grab for them but he holds them up. We're about the same height, I note, me being an inch or two taller. "Sorry, you just looked so beautiful playing." I give up trying to get the photos and sit down in a huff, folding my arms. 

"So Ryan Ross, where'd you learn to play like that?" I look away from him. "It's Ryan. Just Ryan. And I learnt from my mother. She used to play piano a lot." Brendon's looking at me, he sighs. "Well she's a talented lady then. I'd love to meet her." 

"So would I..." I mutter, not sure if he caught it or not. I realise that's the first time I can remember telling someone the truth about her. It's a strange feeling, unnerving to say the least. But, I think I could get used to it. Just maybe.


End file.
